


Deep Space (or Yuuri in Space, take your pick)

by Fiorelily



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Alternate Universe - Space, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Isn't everything shades of grey anyway, M/M, Neither is Yuuri, No I won't tell you who, Plague, Rating May Change, Rating for Language, Space Husbands, Space Pirates, Viktor isn't bad, Why does my brain work this way, just some, scientists - Freeform, they don't all die
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-14 22:46:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9208391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fiorelily/pseuds/Fiorelily
Summary: Yuuri has taken to the stars, literally. Fleeing the broken state that is the Earth, he comes into a ship and goes into the dubious business of revenge piracy. Viktor is still blindingly brilliant, just taking his turn as a research scientist who has forged a path through the cosmos looking for answers. When said scientist holds the key to vast fortunes and influence, what's an anguished space pirate supposed to do? Leave him alone? Where's the fun in that?





	1. When the rug is pulled out from under you

**Author's Note:**

> This is what this fandom has driven me to. I haven't written in a long time, so forgive me if I ramble. Basically, these space boys are not leaving my head anytime soon.
> 
> Will this be a light fluffy affair? sometimes, but this is a world where bad things have happened. Will Yuuri be a dick all the way through? no, he's still Yuuri in there. He just needs reminding. Luckily Viktor is there to poke him in many ways.
> 
> Thank you for reading even this far!

As he stepped through the doorway, the hatch sealed behind him with a sigh. A sharp tang filled the air and his ears popped as the air adjusted to the differential. Total darkness. Then his eyes adjusted and the expansive viewing ports framed the equally expansive star field just beyond the inches-thick plexi. He punched a button on the slick, black wall. And, with a twist of his hips ballet dancers from a bygone era would be jealous of, stepped off the floor into weightlessness.

 

He sighed into the silence, the room cool enough to cause gooseflesh. 1,120 days and still no sign of his quarry. When the days – though is it fair to even call them days when there was no guiding sunlight to mark the passage – got to him, he found solace in just…being. No more cries and screams from his past. No more faces filled with terror as their world ripped from them. Just memories of his family, friends; people whom he loved without reservation – he often forgot to communicate that with them though, another regret – as they were. Happy. Smiling. Unaware.

 

His face gently slid into the bliss of forced meditation, until his blue horn-rimmed glasses began to float off his face, breaking the peace.

 

“Fuck,” Yuuri ripped the glasses off and flung them across the room. They glided and bounced off the plexi with a plastic ting. He drew himself inward, raking his fingers through his hair, yanking a little too hard; at least the physical pain could be safely ignored. He didn’t want to touch the dull ache that had re-nested in his chest like a mopey bird back from a bad holiday. His reverie broken, he pushed off the ceiling and reinstated the gravity. His glasses accepted their new orientation and fell, cracking against the metal floor – the sound of fragmentation mirrored his emotions. The weight of everything rushed back. His eyes were shattered glass, matching his heart, as he stared sullenly into the void.

 

* * *

 

The cockpit of _EROS_ , clad in black and accented with flashes of red and bright metal, pulsed AUTOPILOT on a screen. Another showed vectors and a heading – one away from Earth. On a third, a red blip appeared. Disappeared, then reappeared, seemingly closer than before. A youthful face popped up on yet another screen. Slightly pixilated, the young sprite sported a streak of red hair, a cheeky grin, and a pointy snaggle-tooth, like the AI designers had a field day at the office when coming up with this new face. His face broke into a gaping yawn. He shook whatever counts as sleepiness to an AI out of his programming. He stared in the direction of the blinking red dot for a good five to six seconds before his primary programming kicked in.

 

_They had a hit! And honest to goodness 100% bona fide hit! Now they could begin the short skate portion of their program! He needed to alert Boss!_

Now, while an AI has control over all aspects of a ship and could very easily ascertain the location of said Boss, Minami often displayed some quirks in his programming. One being he referred to himself as “He,” rather than the impersonal “It,” another, he kept an ongoing narrative of his day-to-day as if he were a 16-year-old keeping a diary for posterity. Rather than use the “traditional” method of finding his Boss, he’d physically search for him, much like a game of hide-and-seek where only one person is playing…but who is really paying attention to things like rules? Certainly not Minami.

 

Anyway, Minami blinked off the cockpit screen and in the nanoseconds afterward he thought to check the lab, mess, shower, bunks, crops, shower, fitness, engines, shower – hey, doesn’t hurt to be thorough – all in that order. And so he did. 2.89 seconds later, as Minami blinked into the shower screen for the final time, pixilated tears were forming in his pixilated eyes.

 

_Did Boss finally go off the deep end and take a short walk outside without his suit? No, the airlock hasn’t tripped since we last resupplied. That freighter was very nice to trade with us, though he really got the better end of the deal with the freshly-grown rice Boss bartered. Boss mumbled that needed the pork and eggs for a recipe of his mothers or something. He seemed almost happy when he found out the freighter was carrying sealed rations for the Ganymede outpost. Oh yeah, back to Boss!_

Minami blinked to a screen outside the lounge and bit his lower lip in consternation. This is it, the final place Boss could possibly be. On one hand, he knew not to disturb Boss while he was in the viewing lounge; on the other hand, Boss would want to know this new information before Minami could even think about relaying it. In fact, the longer Minami sat – as far as an AI “sat” – the worse the fallout would be for poor Minami. He took a deep breath. Better to jump in with both feet. Minami blipped off the screen.

 

If someone happened to be walking by the closed door at just the right moment, they might have been startled by the next few moments as “ **BOSSWEFOUNDTHEBRONZETEAM! THEIR SHIP JUST REGISTERED ON OUR SCANNERS** ,” blasted through the sealed door. If someone was walking by, they probably would be trying to clear the ringing from their ears and might miss the resulting dry laugh as Yuuri bursts out of the lounge, swinging a heavy black cloak on. “Let’s go knock on their door then.”

 

* * *

 

“-So anyway, Otabek has been driving me up the wall. He thinks he’s so cool with his undercut and chiseled jaw and dark brooding eyes,” Yuri rolled his head and scoffed, his white jumpsuit blending in with the overly-bright white lab walls. “I don’t know, sounds like you’re paying a lot of attention to him,” interjected Viktor. “-when he’s really just a huge nerd. I mean, how can you look that good while calculating geosynchronous orbit around Io WHILE ALSO calculating how many calories he needs to maintain optimal fat to sugar consumption for peak cognitive efficiency in the lab?” Viktor glances at Yuri and snorts, an amused smile spreads across his face. “That should be illegal, right?” Yuri pleads his case. His soft green eyes hold a fragile quality that makes Viktor pause, then, with a final hum deep in his chest, he shuts off the vid screen with Yuri’s pleading kitten face plastered on it.

 

The room goes dark with only a single light on one of the lab benches to illuminate Viktor’s inscrutable face. He picked up his pipette and retrieved the final sample – even now he held out for a potential cure in one of these test tubes, DNA mixed with blue dye  – off the centrifuge. Not even the ever-present annoying rattle of the engines could break his lock-jaw concentration as Viktor injected the final sample into the gel with the precision of a neurosurgeon. While Viktor does have his doctorate – in Molecular Pathology, it hangs above his bed – he never could stand the sight of blood. In fact, never a drop had ever graced his meticulous lab coat – the one that draped in all the right places.

 

Once the samples are prepared, he set the amperage and switched the electrodes on. Even though the samples have yet to reveal the alleles of the DNA, Viktor gave the box of gel one final look, pinched brow and shining eyes – hope and despair – war on his face. Research papers in hand, he settled in for the hour or so until the samples are complete for study. Until the ship shuddered like a large hand had given it a nudge. The lights shunted into emergency red and Viktor didn’t mistake the tight hiss of the door being sealed. He is immediately beside the samples, protective.

 

* * *

 

As soon as the docking cables made contact with the other ship, Minami raced into the other ship’s mainframe, brushing past the laughable security measures set up by their…AI?

 

Minami expected a knockdown drag-out fight of the highest level given the sensitive nature of the research being carried out by the scientists on this ship. What Minami found was a gaping hole where an AI should reside on the mainframe. Minami noted the jagged edges along the hole. Someone had ripped the AI from the programming, and none too cleanly. As curious as Minami was about the AI, his primary function must be performed. In a few seconds, all the doors were on lockdown, engines stalled, communications disabled, docking port open and read to receive the _EROS_ ’s airlock. Minami used his final 0.13 seconds to sit back on his laurels and pat his pixilated back in a job well done before he zipped to meet Yuuri on the screen in the airlock.

 

“ **BOSS, GET READY TO STEP ONTO THEIR HOME RINK** ,” shouted Minami. It isn’t fair to call Minami overly excited as much as always excited. A quirk Yuuri didn’t particularly relish, but at least the AI’s behavior kept him sane during the long isolation. He also allowed a grin to slide onto his face at Minami’s terminology. Teaching the AI to use figure skating terms hadn’t been easy with the flighty AI, but... _worth it_.

 

The air in the lock stilled as the door finalized the latch sequence. Yuuri struck what he hoped was an intimidating pose, his crimson-lined black cloak swirling deliciously around his waist as the airlock doors opened. Two things stuck out as unusual to Yuuri: one, no one, not even a security force, was there waiting for the hatch to open on the intruding party; and two, the scent that lingered in the air, causing Yuuri to question whether his nose was working properly. For who would have roses on a highly-sensitive research vessel? Yuuri raised his stun pistol to hip height and cautiously followed the floral trail as the scent became stronger.

 

His nose guided him to a small research lab door. He’d passed larger labs along the way, but this one was almost lost, tucked between maintenance and the engine room doors – almost like an afterthought lab where they had extra space that needed filling. In a strange way, Yuuri empathized with the tiny lab, recalling how his own research was passed over so many times in the rush to find a cure.

 

Minami blinked onto the screen adjacent to the door and waited for Boss to signal. Yuuri drew in a stabilizing breath, he gripped the pistol with both hands since just one was shaking too much to make any difference in aiming. His loved ones deep in his memory, Yuuri’s eyes sharpened and he set his mouth in a hard line. He nodded his head at Minami, eyes never leaving the door in front of him.

 

What greeted Yuuri went way beyond surprise for the young man. He expected the searingly clean smell of an aseptic, sterile environment. He expected a group, or at least three, scared cowering scientists. He expected a fight from at least one of the room’s occupants, given how secretive and highly-lucrative their research was purported to be. What he didn’t expect was to come face-to-face with Dr. Nikiforov, _the_ lead scientist on the _entire_ GPF project – and his former personal idol – standing in a room filled equally with research equipment and dozens of potted azure-blue roses ( _the same color as his eyes_ , Yuuri absently noted). And he also didn’t expect the look of fierce aggression vanish instantly and melt into the widest heart-shaped smile Yuuri had witnessed. It was like all the light of the universe flowed through that smile. “Oh thank god you came! I was starting to worry you wouldn’t show up in time,” gushed Viktor as he threw himself onto a thoroughly confused Yuuri.


	2. We're all made of stardust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yuuri tries very hard to be a big tough pirate, but his inner katsudon pudding boy self just. can't. handle. it. Viktor turns out to be just as big an anxietyball as Yuuri (seriously, these boys need therapy. Or a good visit to fucktown (hint, it'll be the latter)). And Phichit turns the meaning of friend into a dirty word (and you briefly meet some of his crew! Hi Mila!!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally another chapter! AND LONGER! I've spent some time mulling this AU in my brains and have come up with a more comprehensive plot WITH multiple motivations for each character! Which means some people will be slightly OOC (I'm looking at you princely pirate Phichit.......) But in the grand scheme of this fic it all fits together. I know there isn't much interaction between Yuuri and Viktor yet, but this is all staging for the meat of the story. I hope it doesn't disappoint. Well, I'm just writing this to get these characters out of my head, so y'all are along for the (spaceship) ride.
> 
> UPDATED for some editing. Nothing story-wise changed though.

Later Yuuri would admit to the pure, unadulterated joy that bubbled within his chest when Viktor crashed into him. All the hours spent in his lab struggling to catch up to Viktor Nikiforov’s blindingly brilliant research. He pored over every paper he published – and magazines that glorified his existence as a researcher and as the most eligible bachelor in the scientific field – marveling at how Viktor made seemingly illogical leaps that wrapped hypothetical probability and reality into neat bows, all the while keeping the scientific community on the edge of their seats. Yuuri had hoped one day he would be good enough to work on Viktor’s team. Until Viktor joined Global Pharma Futures, that is. In Yuuri’s mind, that decision was the biggest slap to the face of science. To squirrel Viktor’s shining intelligence behind iron-walled secrecy and militaristic dogma was crime. Sure, they pushed to the bleeding edge of scientific discovery, but they cast off many scruples along the way. Public perception of the company had just begun to sour when Yuuri fled the planet, leaving behind much of his compassion.

 

Now he schooled his weakened expression and channeled the seething injustice that quickly followed his traitorous emotions. “Viktor Nikiforov,” his voice cracked as he all but screamed, “Y-You’re mine!” He blushed at the fumble. “I mean, you and your research, are now mine!” Yuuri whipped Viktor around and shoved him hard against the closest wall. Yuuri pressed into Viktor’s back with nearly his full weight, disallowing any sign of resistance from the Russian. He thought he heard a quiet gasp from his captive and for the briefest of moments he felt like his entire being was pulled towards the prone man, but he ignored it. He stamped whatever _that_ was down to the base of his gut. He had come too far to let petty things like emotions stand in his way. Still, Yuuri was surprised this was going so well, given this was his first pass at piracy. It felt…good to finally have the upper hand.

 

“Gather only what you need to survive,” Yuuri all but threw Viktor back into the lab. Viktor gave a moue of disappointment as he tripped on some cables and collapsed in a sprawl. “And don’t forget everything you’ve been working on for the past three years, I’ll know if you’re intentionally leaving something behind,” said Yuuri, his eyes hard as stone. He had to be stone. To not let a drop of emotion spill. Viktor’s shoulders slumped and shuddered once. Then he threw Yuuri a look that held his heart beating on a platter, complete with a tearful sniff. Yuuri at once felt like he’d trampled on sunlight, grinding it into the mud. His heart constricted painfully again.

 

Without really realizing it, Yuuri’s feet had started to take a step toward Viktor when Minami blinked to a screen near the young Japanese. “BOSS, THERE’S SOMETHING I GOTTA TELL YOU,” whispered Minami, insofar as he whispered in what would be considered a normal speaking volume.

 

“Not now,” growled Yuuri, effectively pouring concrete in Yuuri’s step, as Minami broke the bubble of confidence Yuuri had cultivated. His eyebrows quirked as doubt started to slink into his heart, an oily merciless thing that fed on righteousness and conviction.

 

Minami acted like he was reading something off-screen, his eyes scanning back and forth. “BUT BOSS, THERE’S SOMETHING STRA-” Something in Yuuri broke and his jaw clenched hard enough to hear his molars protesting.

 

“ **I DON’T CARE** ,” he snapped off, the words brittle on his tongue. The young AI flinched – and so did Viktor, Yuuri noticed. Yuuri sighed, softening his tone fractionally, though the edge of command still rimmed his words. “Now, go back to the ship,” said Yuuri. Snaggle-tooth still snaggled, Minami’s lower lip quivered before the sprite vanished from the screen, leaving the two men alone.

 

To say the air was thick with tension would depreciate the gravity of the situation. One could even cut it and serve the air as a wedding cake for two space husbands, if they ever got off the starting blocks, that is. Precious seconds ticked by. Yuuri was certain others on the research ship would begin to break out of their confinements, rushing to protect their lead scientist from the usurper pirate. After all, not everyone may have been in labs or quarters that Minami could seal. He heard a far-off click somewhere down the corridor. It sounded like a safety switch on a pistol. Was that scrape a boot edging around a corner, waiting for the perfect opportunity to jump Yuuri? An ice cold sweat dripped down his back. And still they hadn’t moved.

 

The two men were frozen, one a shuddering pudding on the verge of breakdown, the other etched in ice. “Yuuri,” Viktor toned softly. “Are you going to help me up or not?” Yuuri flinched, but steadied his pistol. His hands had begun to shake enough to make Viktor eye the gun warily. “Yuuri, it’s okay. I’m coming with you, willingly,” Viktor maintained steady eye contact with the quivering pudding boy. “I can gather everything we will need. I’ll need your help, though. I can’t do it alone,” the softness of his tone broke through Yuuri’s mental prison. The pistol fell from loose fingers and clattered harmlessly on the ground.

 

When Yuuri looked back on the events he couldn’t really recall exact details of moving Viktor’s things – and there were many, many boxes of things. Nor could he recall any conversation they had while a strange domesticity settled in the air during the move. For it really was a move – complete with two strong, young men handling items too large for one to carry on their own. If Yuuri had been paying more attention, he might have found it odd that Viktor had most of his belongings and research materials already in boxes.

 

* * *

 

Viktor stumbled as Yuuri shoved him into a darkened room; a cell he supposes. While Viktor hadn’t exactly envisioned a heartfelt running towards each other, eyes full of admiration and unspoken feelings, tonight wasn’t the best first impression for either man. When Yuuri finally boarded his ship, Viktor hoped to strike balance between cool, collected, and confident during their first meeting. And what does he do instead but run, heart-mouthed, into the arms of this pirate; eyes full of admiration and desperate emotion. One would think that winning the Nobel Prize for Physiology five years in a row he would have equipped the Russian with better interpersonal skills, but he supposed he was living up to the dorky-scientist stereotype.

 

He kneaded the back of his neck, massaging an imagined hurt and frowned into the dark cell. He fumbled for a wall, and hopefully the light controls, when he stepped on something soft and yielding. Caught off guard, he yelped and stumbled backwards, and rammed his hips painfully into some piece of furniture. He swept his arms out to keep his balance, swiping objects onto the floor with various thunks and crunches. Another thing in the dark clattered against his head. He _may_ have screamed a bit as he batted whatever that was away from his face. Finally he met a wall and, using his best impression of a snail, he slunk along the wall’s smooth face until he felt a panel of controls. Frantic, he jabbed at the first button.

 

One dim blue light, in the shape of a figure skater in a graceful, long-limbed biellmann pose, lit near the floor; a charming nightlight to chase bad dreams away. Viktor’s agitation drained as he noticed the hanging mobile with figure skates dancing on the ends. He’d almost ripped the poor thing down in his fear. The soft thing he stepped on? A homemade yarn-haired doll complete with fabric figure skates sewn to its feet. He stooped to pick it up and noticed a photo frame – an oddity in this day and age – had been a victim of his blundering.

 

He crawled under the - _ah desk_ to retrieve the frame and an incense holder with a single burnt stick. Emerging he stood using the desk for stability; his hand came away covered in dust. He set the incense and photo on the desk. A young girl with her hair in purple-banded pigtails smiles, frozen in time. There’s an un-dusty spot on the desk that matches the shape of the incense holder next to a spot that matches the frame. He returns the two items to their proper place. He notices another frame shows triplets – one who has pigtails in purple hair bands – have their arms slung around one another as they grin slyly back at him. His mouth tightened and his eyes glisten with tears on the precipice. From his brief, yet unsuccessful visit to Hasetsu, Viktor knew of the triplets. _Now twins_? He’d been too late. He clutched the skating doll to his chest and, as if someone had tied cement blocks to his feet and thrown him off the short end of a pier, sank downward into a whirlpool of self-disgust and unaccomplished hopes.

 

While countless people succumbed to the plague, he had yet to personally know someone, even tangentially, who died as a result. Their lab had always been able to come up with a drug variation that, while it didn’t cure, it at least staved off mortality to the privileged few who gained access to these experimental treatments. Yet for every drug variation, the plague evolved too quickly for one treatment to work; and so he’d spent every waking minute he possibly could in the lab, seeking the last piece to the elaborate puzzle in front of him. Now, squeezing the doll of a little girl whom he hadn’t even met, yet he felt so close to her story – Yuuri’s story – it cut him far deeper than he ever expected.

 

Dust motes floated lazily in the air with a relaxed, detached quality. Ah to envy a speck of dust. Viktor’s eyes stared unfocused into the middle distance, tear tracks scored his face. At times, he wished, whole-heartedly, he was back in his flat in St. Petersburg, a poodle greeting him at his door ( _I would call her Maccachin_ Viktor smiled sadly). He’d always wanted a poodle, but he never had the heart to get one – the hours and days alone at his place would have driven the dog to madness. He buried his face into the doll’s musty hair and choked back a sob. Instead, he’d deliberately inserted himself into the largest pharmaceutical company in the world, at the height of their scheme. He’d willingly cast aside his concerns – his morals – in order to place himself closest to the heart of the people in power at Global Pharma. He _had_ to make them believe in him. And to do that, he’d trodden on his conscience time after time after time. And he would do it again, for the greater good.

 

….But what good does that do for a dead little girl? _You polished piece of shit! Absolutely nothing, that’s what,_ his teeth groaned in his grimace. A full body shiver ran up and down his spine and he wondered if the temperature of the room was purposefully dropping, or if his own body was rejecting him. _Probably the latter_ he thought with a derisive smirk. The tremble in his hands ratcheted up and soon the doll was carefully placed on the bed before Viktor accidentally pulled the delicate seams apart. He needed his fix. Just enough to calm his nerves.

 

The data stick was fumbled out of his pocket. It took a few shaky tries jamming it into the data port before it clicked and began reading the data. Displayed was a file full of hundreds of video recordings. He jabbed at the file at the top of the list, dated over a year ago. The screen flickered to life as white text on a black screen “Transmission: AGAPE” was quickly replaced by Yuri leaning into the camera, turning it on, then settling back in his seat. He blows his hair out of his face as he eyes the camera, challenge gleaming bright on his face. Viktor feels his neck muscles loosen immediately.

 

“Hey! Washed-up old has-been,” he casually insults Viktor. “Just thought you might like to know, Otabek and me, you know the ones who weren’t deemed great enough for your fucking Gold Team,” Yuri punctuates his words by jabbing his finger at the camera.

 

Viktor breathed through his nose, his demeanor calmed from the previous minutes. Sad eyes regard the angry blonde. “You just needed more experience, I never believed-“ Viktor quickly retorted.

 

“Well _we_ have a breakthrough on our end,” Viktor’s response is cut off by Yuri’s continuation. “-with verifiable results! Whose eating crow now old man,” Yuri’s face is flush with glee. “I fucking told you the solution was in radioactive material contained in Io’s ice mantle!” Yuri pumps a fist.

 

Viktor smiled wearily at the declaration, his shoulders ease. “Hm, you did tell me and I didn’t listen,” he recalls the presumptuous 17-year-old nipping at his heels. “I’m sorry, I should have given your theories more thought-”

 

Yuri talks over Viktor’s apology. “And see, we didn’t need some Japanese piggy’s stupid plant theory at all. Wasting time following that science is why you’re effectively dead as a scientist, DOCTOR Nikiforov,” Yuri sneers into the camera. Viktor clenched a fist at the thinly-veiled threat. Even now the child – who isn’t even finished working on his doctorate for god’s sake – still can incite emotion from the elder scientist.

 

Then, Yuri’s demeanor changes and something approaching humility graces the corners of his eyes. “I really couldn’t have done it without Otabek’s help though,” he casts his eyesight downward and a light blush steals across his face.

 

Viktor’s fingers ghost across the screen, giving Yuri a paternal caress.

 

“He is the real rockstar of this team,” Yuri sighs, his voice drops to almost a whisper. He brushes his baby-fine hair away from his face. “If he hadn’t suggested vaporizing the ice, I wouldn’t be able to report these findings to you,” a shy smile and the young teenager finally looks his age. That is until the bravado slams back up and his eyes are guarded once again. “I-I mean, he occasionally, sometimes comes up with useful information.”

 

The video screen behind Yuri pulses a bright red color and a pixilated tearful man with a quiff hairstyle flashes up on the screen. “I KNEW IT! I JUST KNEW IT! OH HOW CRUEL THE FATES HAVE BEEN-” he starts wailing.

 

Viktor can see Yuri’s hackles rise. “ **FOR FUCKS SAKE GEORGI** ,” Yuri whips around, shouts at the AI. “ **WILL YOU JUST SHUT YOUR GODDAMNED PIEHOLE FOR ONE SECOND**!” The AI has the decency to look startled for a half second. He opens his mouth but Yuri doesn’t even allow one toe across the line. “No! Not today. I’m feeling good today, so you can take your shit somewhere else. I keep telling you we aren’t falling into a star,” he starts to tick his fingers off. “-suffering oxygen exposure delirium, leaving the airlock open, creating a wormhole, taking on water, being boarded by pirates, **OR ANY OTHER RANDOM SHIT YOU MAKE UP**!” He breathes heavily at the end of his tirade.

 

“But-” Georgi tries, however, Yuri punches a button – literal, not metaphorical – and the AI blips off the screen. Yuri takes a deep breath, holds it for a moment, then blows the stress out. “-So anyway, Otabek has been driving me up the wall. He thinks he’s so cool with his undercut and chiseled jaw and dark brooding eyes,” Yuri rolled his head and scoffed. “-When he’s really just a huge nerd. I mean, how can you look that good while calculating geosynchronous orbit around Io WHILE ALSO calculating how many calories he needs to maintain optimal fat to sugar consumption for peak cognitive efficiency in the lab?”

 

Viktor again caressed the screen, tears pricking the corners of his eyes, but unlike his previous mess of nerves, this cry is cathartic. Nothing he can do can change the outcome, this he knows. “That should be illegal, right?” Yuri pleads his case.

 

Then Otabek storms into the room, his face tight with worry. Yuri jumps and bashfully rubs the back of his neck. “H-hey Otabek, I thought you were in the cockpit today,” Yuri glances at the camera. “Did, uh, did you hear? Anything?” he laughs nervously.

 

“Come,” Otabek says and grabs Yuri’s hand and pulls him to a standing position. Yuri’s out-of-focus white jumpsuit ass is the only thing visible to Viktor. “It’s pirates.”

 

Yuri’s ass clenches as shots can be heard in the background. “We need to go. Now,” Otabek commands. The pair of them take off hands clasped tightly. A few seconds later Viktor can make out another shot and Yuri’s muffled yelp of pain.

 

The recording dims as it corrects the white balance in the room without the additional human in front of the camera. Viktor sighed and stopped the recording. He knows it spins on for hours and he has watched all of it with nothing new gleaned for each viewing. Emotionally exhausted, he leans against the door and is completely taken by surprise when it opens, and he falls flat on his face.

 

* * *

 

Minami was pouting. At least Yuuri thought he was, since the little AI had his back turned on Yuuri. He had no idea the programmers rendered the backs of AIs heads. Strange that they should pay attention to such a small detail. “Yes, yes, you’re right, I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” Yuuri pinched the brow of his nose and looked at the ceiling as if it would release him from this stupid exchange. A headache was steamrolling into Yuuri’s temples. “But you also should listen to my command. Am I not the captain of this ship?” Yuuri leveled a determined look at the AI, crossing his arms. Minami threw a tearful look over his “shoulder” and stuck his pink pixilated tongue out at Yuuri.

 

The childish action just irked Yuuri, his temples pulsing with the beat of his heart. He was in command here, not some glitchy, flighty AI! He squared off to face the AI, a determined heat settled in his gut. “Artificial Intelligence Unit Minami! Shape up right now, heed your programming, and start following my orders OR I’ll have no choice but to demote you, or worse _ERASE_ you and replace you with a newer model! At least then I might have some respect around here!” Minami whirled around to face him, large tears pooled in Minami’s eyes and his bottom lip quivered. Yuuri took a step back, his mouth dropped open. _Shit, I’ve stepped in it now,_ panicked Yuuri _._ Never had the AI been this upset before.

 

If one had been floating outside the _EROS_ at just the right moment, they might have stopped to hear “ **YUURI-CAPTAIN NO BAKA!!!** ” rattling through the metal skin of the ship. Back inside the cockpit, Yuuri was doubled over holding his ears with a pained expression. He was pretty sure that went well past 11 on the volume. Did the AI really have to broadcast it on all the screens of the ship though? Minami had even slipped back into his native language pack. The little AI had fled from the cockpit, leaving Yuuri with his ears ringing and his head threatening war with the rest of his body. Yuuri scrubbed at his face as if that would erase the regretful words. It was times like these he wished he could divorce himself from his physical body and exist only in thought, drifting without form and purpose, like stardust. At least stardust doesn’t hurt the ones closest to him. Yuuri slumped in one of the two seats in the cockpit. _It’s not I have many people I consider friends anyway_ , he thought listlessly. _But Minami is one of those friends_ , his conscience reminded him. _Fuck fuck fuck!_

 

Just as Yuuri was about to launch a search for the AI, a low gong-like tone sounded through the cockpit. _The comms!_ _Crap._ Minami always handled the comm traffic, coordinates, airlocks…. Hell the little AI ran the entire damn ship. Yuuri started slapping at buttons, flailing around for a few seconds. The gong sounded a second time and Yuuri noticed one button was flashing. He hastily punched it. Phichit’s sunny face flashed onto the screen to the right of Yuuri.

 

“Yuuri! There you are! I was wondering if you were going to answer,” he gushed. A buff-colored hamster shuffled out from under his hair sniffing the air. “Usually Minami picks up right away, so I worried something had happened to the _EROS._ It’s really such a beautiful ship, _”_ his beatific smile lessened fractionally.

 

“You haven’t damaged my _gift_ to you, have you?” the question held an edge to it and his smile could cut a lesser man’s confidence in half. Phichit held Yuuri’s gaze. The tiny hamster sat back on its haunches and started cleaning its face.

 

“Well it’s a good thing _gifts_ and their care are left up to the discretion of their new owners then,” Yuuri returned the hard smile and added a cock of the head. “Otherwise _everyone_ in the galaxy would be indebted to someone else.” If this were one of those old-style westerns the two men would be standing at high noon on a dusty street, trigger fingers itching. Seconds ticked by and Yuuri’s smile started to crumble as a sweatdrop beaded on his temple. This did not bode well for his headache, which was playing a rumba in his frontal lobe.

 

Then both men broke into the heartiest laughter, Phichit howling in merriment from his captain’s chair, Yuuri holding his sides and wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. “Dammit Yuuri! I thought I finally had you going,” Phichit wheezed. He stabilized Arthur the hamster for fear of him tumbling to the ground.

 

“Phichit, it’s really hard to take you seriously when Arthur’s rooting around your hair,” laughed Yuuri. “But I have to admit you’ve been working on your game face.” Phichit slapped on his cheekiest grin, his tongue peeking out the side. “What can I say? I’m a slave to the hamster,” giggled the young pirate. He leaned closer to the screen. “He’s really the one in charge,” he said conspiratorially, winking.

 

“He who controls the sunflower seeds controls the world,” Yuuri shot a mischievous look at his Thai friend.

 

They both dissolved into giggles and, for a moment, Yuuri relaxed. Then he straightened his spine and schooled his expression. “This isn’t a social call, is it Phichit?”

 

The Thai man’s delighted smile fell. He scooped the hamster off his shoulder and held Arthur off to the right without taking his eyes off Yuuri, and dropped the hamster. A red-haired woman with an eyepatch is instantly there to catch the hamster the moment he leaves Phichit’s hand. Her captain didn’t even acknowledge her presence, but she handled the tiny rodent with a reverent quality. As soon as Arthur is secure, she left with a tiny wave at Yuuri. He spared a scant smile at Mila as she walked away.

 

“Watch out for Mila, you work her too hard. Good first mates are hard to find,” said Yuuri.

 

Phichit glanced after Mila and shrugged. “She won’t leave. She loves me too much to leave,” Phichit stated flippantly, waving his hand lazily. “But we aren’t here to talk about my crew, Yuuri.”

 

The air between them shifted – charged – when Phichit next locked eyes with Yuuri. “The Bronze Team,” Phichit stated flatly.

 

Yuuri’s stomach dropped. _It’s been less than a day since- how the hell does Phichit know?_

His jaw set hard, Phichit continued, his voice low purred like a giant cat about to pounce. “You’ve plundered Viktor Nikiforov’s depths, haven’t you.”

 

It took all of Yuuri’s faculties to not visibly react to the statement. Inside he quavered and blushed at the innuendo. _If only that were true,_ his innermost mind whispered _._ Outwardly he ran a barely trembling hand through his hair and fastened his most confident smirk on his face. “If only that were the truth then I’d be a much happier man,” said Yuuri. _Hell,_ I _didn’t even know Viktor was on that ship!_ “Phichit you know how long I’ve been seeking the Bronze Team’s _DUETTO._ I-I mean we only had one heavily-coerced hint about where even that ship was,” he babbled. “Three goddamned years, that’s how long! Tracking the Global Pharma ships is nearly impossible; hell with all the stealth technology they threw at this project, we basically have to stumble upon them!”

 

Phichit kept his face stony.

 

“A-and if I’d stumbled across the Gold Team’s ship and Nikiforov I’d have contacted you immediately, you know that,” Yuuri pulled out a half-lie he hoped would convince the other pirate. Careful not to look away, Yuuri gazed earnestly at Phichit. “That was part of our deal, right? I widen your net for Nikiforov, you get ransom privileges, and I get first access to his research.”

 

Yuuri held his breath.

 

His stomach was doing its best to crawl out of his mouth, so Yuuri kept his mouth tightly closed, his lips a thin seal. The Thai pirate tapped his index finger in a staccato beat on his armrest. Yuuri almost broke; almost.

 

Then Phichit’s face eased into a superior smile. “I’m glad to see my investment in you wasn’t a waste Yuuri,” Yuuri nearly swallowed his tongue as Phichit leaned forward. “I expect great things from you,” said Phichit.

 

“By the way, how are the girls?” he inspected his nail beds before flicking his hard gaze back to Yuuri.

 

“T-They’re fine, why do you ask?” Yuuri white-knuckled the edge of the console.

 

“Oh you know, I wondered if the Ganymede base was secure against any number of….unscrupulous parties.” Phichit chuckled, “It’s funny really,” (to Yuuri the turn of the conversation was anything but funny) “But I suppose my _investment_ keeps the site secure. After all, it’s pretty expensive keeping even one person in cryo-stasis. It’d be a real shame if you couldn’t keep your payments up.”

 

Yuuri fought the rising panic and forced the worry from his face. Instead he pasted on a look of resolute determination. “ _Yuuko’s_ inheritance luckily keeps them safe for now,” Yuuri replied, his voice measured. “Your investment goes into the day-to-day operations of the ship and the search for Nikiforov, just like we discussed.”

 

“I’m very glad we became friends instead of enemies,” Phichit pointedly looked at Yuuri, the hamster pirate’s eyes betrayed no emotion. Then his laugh punctuated the air, causing Yuuri to jump in his seat.

 

Another crewmember leaned in from the side and handed Phichit a datapad, Yuuri recognized Emil’s goatee before the young man leaned down and waved enthusiastically at Yuuri. He returned the wave.

 

“Well Yuuri, I have been given something that requires my full attention,” Phichit clicked his tongue. “I’m afraid I have to cut our conversation short. We must catch up soon though.”

 

Yuuri nodded. “Definitely. La Khong,” Yuuri butchered the Thai goodbye.

 

Phichit winced and responded “บอกลา เพื่อนของฉัน.” At one time Yuuri might have remembered enough Thai to understand that, but not anymore.

 

* * *

 

As the screen to the _EROS_ went black, the datapad confirmed what Phichit already suspected. The last-minute crew manifest change for the _DUETTO_ with Viktor Nikiforov’s name at the top of the list. He sighed sadly and clicked his tongue again. “Dammit Yuuri, I gave you a chance,” he said mostly to himself. A quick look, and Mila was already barking orders to the crew.

 

* * *

 

The transmission from the _TERRA INCOGNITA_ cut. As if he suddenly were boneless, Yuuri released the tension from the conversation. And promptly slid off the seat, landing painfully on his tailbone. Yuuri deserved a blinding headache and a smarting ass. He was an ass. He felt horrible lying to his friend. Yet he’d done so almost without thinking about it. Why? He thought he would gladly be able to hand Viktor over to the wolves, yet he hesitated. _Why?_

 

For all the things Global Pharma had done, for all the atrocities, all the blood on their hands, he associated Viktor with them. He was just as dirty and corrupt as the rest of the company. _Viktor joined them, he’s as guilty as the rest of them_ , Yuuri’s verdict came down from on high and settled in a cold puddle in his gut. His hands clenched, shaking. _Filthy, rotten, disgusting, putrescent, scum!_ For a moment he considered calling Phichit back, yet every time he tried to move, his hands stayed fisted in his lap, trembling. _What the actual fuck is wrong with me?_ _This shouldn’t even be a question._ Yuuri opened his fists, angry red semicircles lightly welled with blood. It may as well be Lutz’s blood on his hands for all he cared.

 

Now, however, when Yuuri pictures Viktor in his mind, he sees the shining smile that greeted him in the tiny, forgotten lab on a ship floating in deep space. He sees the trampled light that came from Yuuri’s rough reaction. He sees the hurt and confused look thrown over Viktor’s shoulder as he trembles on the lab floor. And something in Yuuri _yearned._ It was as if someone had put Yuuri’s heart into a shredder. His breathing became tighter, thready. He clutched his chest, and was startled to feel his heart beating madly. _Unacceptable!_ He shook his head to clear the affliction away. He just needed to calm himself, find his center, meditate or something. The entire day had drained any reserves he had.

 

He stormed out the cockpit, his steps thudded heavy in his shins and shot down the dark metal hallway. Emotions chased after, pounding his heart like a harried bird. He stomped faster. The closer he got to the lounge and the promise of serenity, his steps lightened and soon he was all but running to the door of his escape, his release. Except….the door. Yuuri whimpered when it wouldn’t open for him, the metal barrier mocking him. He would get to his goddamned serenity if it killed him! “ **MINA** -” Yuuri stilled his throat. Shouting at the AI wouldn’t do him any good. He’d been the one to start this whole messy argument in the first place. He chewed his lip. No, Yuuri would be the one to mend this.

 

His hands still trembled as his eyes took on a sheen of resolve. _Right, like I am capable of that,_ he chided himself. Before he even attempted to make up with the AI, he needed some way out of the panic corner he was pegged into.

 

Without even thinking about where he was going, his feet already started to carry him to the next logical place. By the time he noticed where he was, he already stood outside the modular exercise chamber. _I’ll program the skating rink, that should work_. Even thinking about getting onto the false icy surface left Yuuri with a calm smile. It wasn’t as good as a real ice rink, not by a long shot. The holographic rink looked the same as the Ice Castle back home – smaller rink size, certainly – but the delicious slippery friction between a real blade and ice, the balance between skater and the cold, merciless surface below them; that couldn’t be replicated no matter how many engineers they throw at the problem. But at least he could practice some jumps or skate compulsory figures.

 

He stepped through the door and surprise took him as the chamber automatically turned his shoes into skates. _Why is the room already an ice rink,_ he asked himself. A familiar chuff of a skate on ice drew his attention as Viktor, mouth open in an equally surprised O, was skating up to his quad flip jump. But since Yuuri walked right into his path at the peak of his speed…..

 

With precision Viktor whipped back around and opened his arms right before he crashed headlong into Yuuri.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -I hope Viktor and Yuri's "conversation" reads well enough to understand. Poor Viktor talking to a recording like it's reality (and you wonder where he gets his neuroses).  
> -Yes, AgedUp!Yuuri is here too. The boy's a genius, but a 15-year-old working on his doctorate? Just, No.  
> -Well Google Translate (the BEST online translation tool ever........-_-) told me บอกลา เพื่อนของฉัน meant "bye my friend"  
> -And yes, Yuuri's Thai pronunciation is horrid.  
> -I started out writing Phichit as the cheery self he is in the show, yet as I ran through his motivations, he kept turning the conversation. Moral of the story, Pirate!Phichit will cut you while Arthur the hamster stares at you silently eating sunflower seeds.  
> -I’ll leave it to you to decide if Phichit and Mila are a thing or not…  
> -I really will have our two mains, you know, INTERACT instead of full body crashing into one another (I promise!)


	3. Fury Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri proves that second impressions can indeed be worse than the first impression. Our little katsudon has to work a lot on his interpersonal skills. And we get a chance to see what's happened to Yuri and Otabek. Hint, it's not all cozy cushions and stuffed teddy bears on JJ's ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! We're starting to see a few other characters in the story. Everyone has their own agendas and motivations for their actions, but man, sometimes it's hard to write them being such assholes to one another. Things will turn around, I promise. The angst won't last forever. And even though it may be hard, forgive misguided, fucked-up JJ. I have plans for the poor bab. He's not a clear-cut villain. 
> 
> And if you're wondering why Viktor seems to know so much about Yuuri, there's a reason behind it. I just haven't gotten there yet. :)
> 
> AHHHH, I want to give everyone in this fic a huge hug! (and yes, I know it's me putting them through the difficulties...)

Their impact drove his breath away and he vaguely realized Viktor was holding him, trying to shield him from the ice. Then, like a supernova exploded in his head, pain burst on his occipital, radiating all the way through to his back molars; the ice claimed victory. A voice, muffled, called to him “-ri! -UURI!” But the ringing in his ears wouldn’t clear and his body refused to respond. The ringing tone increased until it threatened to drown Yuuri’s sanity. He briefly thought that he should be panicking right now, but thinking made his head hurt, so he stopped. Then, darkness and everything stopped.

 

“-uuri, look it’s your favorite skater,” his Okaa-san’s voice floated in on a band of soft light and warmth. Pieces of his life back in Hasetsu resolved, like someone focusing a microscope lens. The strands of her hair glinted in an unknown light source. “It’s a shame he’s retiring so young! You were right. He skates so beautifully,” she sighed and Yuuri sighed at her sigh. Could he bottle a memory and save it, he wondered.

 

Memory-Yuuri responded in Yuuri’s place, like he was just a spectator. “Yeah, I could watch him for hours,” he said dreamily. “I mean, 21-years-old and he hasn’t even peaked yet!” memory-Yuuri gushed. “Think about it Okaa-san. When he finishes his PhD, he’ll be one of the most decorated men on the planet with gold medals from skating AND Pulitzer Prizes from his research!”

 

He clenched his hand “And one day Okaa-san, I’ll be by his side in the lab, just you wait,” He giggled at the anticipation like he was five, instead of 17-years-old, determination and passion burning bright in his eyes. He sighed sadly “I’ll miss you while I’m in Detroit.”

 

He snuggled child-like into the crook of her arm, reveling in the smell of katsdon clinging to her knobbly maroon sweater. How he missed that smell – her smell – and the sense of home, security, patience, love, and everything that came along with that smell. He almost started crying at that smell. To know he could never experience her unique smell ever again was nearly too much to handle, so he pushed the feeling away.

 

He should enjoy this time in his dream-memory while he could. The one place he could meet her again. He pulled away to look at his Okaa-san, but her face was fuzzy and undefined, like he couldn’t piece together a complete picture of her anymore. And his heart sank even further. He was pretty sure that if someone looked at him now they could paint the story of his glass heart shattered into millions of glittering pieces.

 

But a flash of azure blue on the television distracted him, pulling him out of the grief-spiral. With startling clarity, Viktor Nikiforov, full of vitality and confidence, skated to the podium and hopped up, without breaking stride, to the top level. His outfit was stunning, white-sequined blue leaf-pattern and a daring lattice of mesh that showed his defined pecs very, _very_ well. Viktor’s smile beamed with the brilliance of the stars, welcoming everyone’s adulation and cheers graciously. Deep in his gut, something twisted greedily and Yuuri wanted for that smile to be for him and him alone.

 

“Oh look Yuuri! Blue roses,” his Okaa-san sighed as Viktor accepted a gigantic bouquet and luxurious crown of blue roses “Your grandmother told me blue roses meant a mysterious, impossible event or meeting a tantalizing stranger.” She tittered at the thought.

 

“Mmn, yes. But those aren’t real blue roses, Okaa-san. There’s no such thing as a blue rose, not in nature. In fact, roses can’t even produce the blue pigmentation seen in other plants. Now, the Xanthoria lichen I’ve been studying for undiscovered medical compounds actually _does_ have the blue pigment!” memory-Yuuri lectured, though he cringed to hear himself spewing his knowledge to a relatively harmless comment. “The closest botanists have come is a blue-ish lilac colored rose,” he huffed at the inferior plants. “They obviously dyed them to get that deep blue color.”

 

Hiroko ruffled his hair good-naturedly as Yuuri nestled back into her side, like a baby bird gathering warmth. Yuuri absentmindedly recalled the other meaning behind blue roses, a blush stealing onto his cheeks: the wonderful, excited rollercoaster drop into a first love. Viktor’s azure gaze, directly into the camera – into Yuuri’s eyes – fanned the coals already warming in his core.

 

“Oh Yuuri, you’re a bright young man, but don’t let yourself jump to quickly to conclusions,” she said “sometimes you let yourself become too focused and you forget to look beyond what appears at the surface.”

 

He paused at her words, he wanted to hide the judgmental parts of his personality that she found lacking. But even as he was pulling inward, his mother hugged Yuuri sweetly and he sighed into her shoulder as he fiercely returned the hug. She peppered his forehead with tiny kisses, showing she still loved him regardless. The gesture, so integral to his memory of her brought waves of emotion. Regrets, heavy around his neck, pulled him back down into the mire of grief.

 

If only he could stay wrapped in her arms forever and he could keep her safe from her fate. If only this weren’t a dream and he’d gone home to see her at least once before-…. Before she died. His throat constricted and his tongue lay thick in his mouth, his thoughts twisted darkly. If only he’d realized what those fuckers at Global Pharma – _Viktor –_ were doing sooner before she fell to their manufactured plague. His hands fisted around his Okaa-san’s sweater.

 

The light surrounding Hiroko brightened and he thought – hoped – he caught a glimpse of her warm cinnamon eyes, crinkled at the corners from years of laughter. She drew Yuuri in and placed a lingering kiss on his temple. The spot drew its own heat and filled Yuuri to the brim with affection.

 

In the back of his mind, he knew he needed to keep this memory close to him. But memories were slippery things, sliding back into cracks of the subconscious before you knew it. Still, he wanted to keep this with him.

 

* * *

 

The blinding pain registered first, like a band squeezing his brain. Then, cutting through the edge of pain, a balm, came a lingering, moist warmth at his temple. A gentle, calming scent surrounded him, crisp and musky that reminded Yuuri of long runs with Vicchan along the beach in his home town. His heart suddenly ached for home; a home that would never be the same after the plague. “Okaa-san,” Yuuri mumbled as a rebellious tear snuck from the corner of his eye.

 

He heard a gasp and his motor functions finally caught up enough to crack an eye. Overwhelming brightness attacked his vision, silver hair and impossible blue eyes swam as he tried to focus his gaze. _Oh. Viktor. Holding me._ He noted as an afterthought as he tried kick start his brain through the pain.

 

Viktor’s expression looked almost as painful as Yuuri’s head felt. He was holding Yuuri like he was a priceless Fabergé egg. “Yuuri! Thank god! You weren’t responding at all,” Yuuri felt Viktor trembling. “I tried to stop in time. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t woken up! This was all my fault! This surface isn’t as responsive as regular ice and I can’t control these artificial blades as well as my real blades.” Viktor, his words hurried and insistent, as if to steep Yuuri in apologies. “Please Yuuri, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

 

“How…?” Yuuri tried very hard to form a coherent sentence, but his thoughts were still muddled. He tried to retrace his thoughts in an attempt to fight against the strange floating sensation and rising nausea. He- he’d been thinking about the beach, home, his dog. And before that…his head pulsed angrily and Yuuri reached back to tenderly feel the growing lump on the back of his head. The lightest touch sparked a whole new galaxy of pain in Yuuri’s head. He groaned. His hand came back with the smallest amount of blood on the fingertips. _Ah, yes. Viktor and I collided._ He was surprisingly calm, though shock does strange things to a person’s emotive state. Still, with a slightly giddy giggle, he registered a small amount of appreciation for Viktor’s apparent concern and a blossom of warmth spread in his chest.

 

When Viktor saw the blood, he visibly paled – a feat for someone already so, so pale – and he looked ready to pass out himself. “Блядь,” he swore, the cords of his neck muscles tightened and he shook his head. “Yuuri, we need to get you to the infirmary and check your vitals! You may have a serious concussion or brain aneurysm! Hey computer kid, drop the room simulation,” Minami peeped in on a screen and did as Viktor commanded, the icy surface and their artificial blades disappeared. He started to pull Yuuri into his chest to carry the injured pirate, favoring his right arm and hand.

 

Yuuri struggled against the action. “No-” Yuuri moaned a complaint but cut short in a gasp of pain. He didn’t need fussing over. He just needed to sit still for a while. He was certain of that. Afterall, he’d gone through so much worse during the hellish “training” when he first joined Phichit’s crew. He still has scars from the times where he and Phichit ran practice battles in anti-gravity where one opponent had a nice long focused-beam rapier and the other a titanium spork; depending on who was quicker at gaining the weapons plinth. Yuuri loved the times where he won with that spork. Victory was that much sweeter when it was hard-gained and rightfully-earned.

 

When Yuuri nearly wriggled out of Viktor’s grip, Viktor gave Yuuri a sharp look. It gave Yuuri pause. “Stop it, now! We’re going to the infirmary and treating your injury even if I have to use myself as a human paperweight to keep you there!” Viktor pinned Yuuri with a look of determination. “I won’t let you die from my clumsy actions like your mother did.”

 

Viktor must not have been prepared for the visceral backlash from Yuuri because he did nothing to block the thrown punch. Though his anger fueled the punch, his position in Viktor’s arms gave him not enough leverage to do any real damage, much to Yuuri’s indignation. Yuuri dropped from the scientist’s arms and his head reminded him in a vicious feedback loop that he really _wasn’t_ okay. But fuck that, Yuuri wasn’t letting _him,_ that murderer, help him.

 

“ **DON’T!** Don’t you **_dare_ ** ever sully my mother’s memory with your lips! You’re the whole fucking reason she’s no longer here!” Yuuri poured all the years of grief and venom he could into the declaration. Yuuri kicked weakly at Viktor from the floor, grazing his ankle enough to cause it to buckle, but not enough to drop the Russian. Yuuri took the small window of distraction to tackle Viktor and pull him down into a joke of a fist fight. One man taking drunken, ill-aimed swings, the other with tears streaming down his face, barely putting up any resistance. Several times, Yuuri nearly retched, the pain in his head so blinding, but he was damned determined to not show his weakness to his fucking prisoner.

 

When Yuuri’s rage fuel finally ran low, he fell back onto his ass, breathing heavily. His head throbbed with each breath. Fixing Viktor with an intense look he growled low, “You **_ever_** mention her again and I’ll end you, cure or no cure.” Viktor gulped at the statement of truth from Yuuri. “Get out of my sight,” he said dismissively.

 

Viktor looked like he wanted to protest, his throat bobbing with every swallow he took, but the words died on his lips as Yuuri’s features sharpened. Not even bothering to wipe the tear tracks from his face, he let his head hang limp and reeking of sad defeat, Viktor nodded slowly.

 

Yuuri wished he could capture this moment where he triumphed over the symbol of his struggle for the past four years, yet even in victory, it felt hollow and unsatisfying. The feeling bitter in his mouth.

 

* * *

 

As the door hissed closed behind Viktor and the righteous anger flooded out of Yuuri, he stumbled and collapsed against the closest wall. He really was in bad shape. Sweat soaked his shirt from even the tiniest exertion and even the idea of getting all the way to the infirmary made his vision swim. His thoughts still weren’t completely sorted, so maybe that’s why he felt a twinge of regret when he thought about Viktor’s broken expression as he left the room.

 

Minami cautiously peered in from the side of the closest screen. “Boss, I’m sorry. I thought he had free reign of the ship.” The usually vibrant AI was dim and meek, his sprite coloration tinged a sickly grey. “It’ll never happen again, I promise. I’ll lock him into the girl’s room as soon as he gets back. You won’t have to see him ever again unless you want to!” Minami declared.

 

Seeing his AI look so beat down, Yuuri felt like such a heel. “Minami, it wasn’t your fault,” Yuuri smiled weakly at the AI. “None of it was your fault. I’m the captain and I didn’t give you any orders regarding Viktor.” Gaining back his AI’s trust and friendship was more important than his stubborn pride. “Minami, I’m sorry,” he bowed at the screen and immediately was rewarded with an all new description of pain, but he kept bowing to the little AI. “I shouldn’t have blown up at you or threatened you with erasing. I value your contribution to this ship; and your friendship. I truly hope you can forgive a foolish man for his failings.” Yuuri heard a sniffling and his heart quailed at the thought of hurting Minami’s feelings again.

 

“BOSS, OF COURSE I FORGIVE YOU!!” Minami replied in his normal speaking volume, which is to say bleeding-ears. Yuuri winced at the sudden increase in noise and Minami gasped. “BOSS! THAT’S RIGHT YOU’RE HURT! GO TO THE INFIRMARY RIGHT NOW AND I’LL RUN DIAGNOSTICS AND TREATMENTS!” And at that the AI lit flashing arrows directing all the way to the infirmary. Yuuri focused on following the bright red arrows as he forced his feet one in front of the other. Those arrows probably saved Yuuri’s life.

 

* * *

“Unnngh,” a model-esque, black-haired woman with blood red lipstick moaned into the darkened room. An overly-large bed in the center of the room where a lump in the center of a tangle of red and white sheets jerked once. Looking slightly peeved, she moved closer to the edge of the screen she was on, smooshing her pixilated face right to the edge. “UNNNNNNNGH JJ,” she tried again, blushing slightly at the requested wake up sound. “You’ve slept too long darling and today’s a special day.”

 

The lump stirred and an arm with a tribal maple leaf tattoo slithered out of the mess, followed by a groggy face that might have turned heads if sheet wrinkles hadn’t left topographical maps on his cheeks. JJ sat up from his cocoon and blinked blearily to the AI, smiling. “I could never forget it, babe,” he said, stepping naked from the Canadian flag sheets. Scratching his ass, he yawned and stepped over to peck the screen tiredly. Isabella kissed the screen as well, leaving a pixilated lipstick mark, which lasted before she wiped it away with a dusty blush high on her cheeks.

 

He struggled a bit to coordinate his sleep-heavy limbs as he stumbled to his closet and grabbed fistfuls of clothing and flung them backwards into the room, a pair of crimson undies with the Canadian Flag plastered across the ass landed on the peak of the clothing pile. Those slid on first, then too tight lilac pants with sequined bolts of lightning running down the sides. He picked up a billowy lilac pirate shirt next and he caught sight of his left bicep flexing in the floor-to-ceiling mirror. ‘JJ and Isabella’ was picked out and scarred on his arm, jagged, like someone carving the words onto their heart despite – or because of – the pain. The date below it was exactly two years prior to this exact day. Before he shrugged on his shirt he lightly stroked a thumb over Isabella’s name, then balled into a fist. His eyes, clear of sleepiness, held a ghost of pain.

 

In a back corner of the room, a figure with pin straight hair cut in a severe bob that could slice noses off stood. “JJ, precious, you’re the best of your father and me. Our little king.” Nathalie Leroy beamed a beatific smile at her son as he finished dressing languidly. “Remember that nothing can stop you from stepping up and taking what you deserve, so don’t let that dirty Kazakh beat you at this game. You’re better than him.” She looked imperious as she regarded JJ.

 

JJ sighed slightly and flicked his eyes to Nathalie’s reflection.

 

Nathalie settles back onto her heels. “That squirrely Russian, what’s-his-name…,” she tapped her finger to her mouth, scheming. “He may be the crowbar you need to pry their heads open for their secrets!” She grinned cheerfully into the room. “He’s at least….responsive to the serum, but he only has part of the information you need,” her expression deepened into a mad display touched with insanity. Her rigor mortis grin was leagues away from the sweet motherly smile from before. “You’ve gone too soft on them. The time for “non-invasive” measures is gone,” she flicked her fingers in air quotes. “If you’re going to save her, you’ll need to use more…permanent and lasting measures.”

 

JJ jumped ever-so-slightly at her suggestion, a flash of worry marred his face. He smoothed down his shirt and raised his grey eyes to regard himself in the wall-to-wall mirror, “As always mama, I’ll do my best. Nothing will stop me.” He smiled at his reflection and the king smiled back at him, his eyes gleamed as sharp as knives. As he turned to leave the room, his mother wasn’t reflected in the mirror.

 

* * *

 

The glass-walled conservatory was bursting with a riot of colors from every flower imaginable. Fat bumblebees dipped lazily into each bloom they stumbled drunkenly upon. Nestled in the heady scent of greenery was a perfect gazebo where his younger sister, Altynay waited. From her fingers, strong, sure strokes from a charcoal stick sketched out a magnificent roaring tiger. The scene is intimately familiar to Otabek; he has walked the halls of this dream often and his subconscious recognized the repeated elements, the brightness of the scene, the burble of a fountain somewhere, Alty’s chestnut waves shimmering in the light.

 

He drifted slowly toward the gazebo, like he is pulled by an invisible hand. Alty looked up from her drawing, beaming that golden smile for which he melted like Icarus’s wings. “Knew you’d find me,” she said, drawing automatically on the paper, not looking at the image.

 

He smiled sadly back at her. “I’ll always find you, no matter where you go,” his own voice sounded muffled, thick and half-choked. He reached his hand toward her, but held back from actually touching her, as if he would stain this perfect version of her. Yet like a moth in the face of the moon’s reflection in a still pond, he couldn’t help but pick up a lock of her dark hair and bring it to his lips.

 

Her smile dimmed a bit and the light in the garden followed. The floral scent, which was background information, became insistent and overpowering. Her hand flew over the paper, drawing with a fervent nature; charcoal dust stained her face and hands.

 

“So it’ll be like a giant hiding game then,” she laughed, the words tripping playfully. “You’ll find me even if I’m in the darkest forest in the middle of a dying planet? Even when you go to space and I’m here stuck in this decaying, rotting body? Will you find me?” Altynay hesitated in her drawing. She captured his gaze with an intensity not usually seen in an 8-year-old child.

 

Otabek doesn’t want her to continue, doesn’t want her to finish her conversation. “Will you find me when I die? When I’ve moved on?” she said, her eyes pinned Otabek like a butterfly specimen, beautiful and unable to turn away. “Promise me you’ll find me, so I won’t be alone anymore.”

 

His footsteps thud dully in his ears as he stopped just short of his sister. The beautiful sketch of the tiger changed now into a young man’s face with intelligent, piercing eyes. Shoulder-length hair, plaited to follow the curve of his left ear. And on the man’s face – Yuri’s face – the same golden smile reserved only for him. His heart sped up at the sight and heat flushed through his core. He hugged his sister and in that act the person in his arms him changed to match the drawing.

 

“Well? C’mon, are ya gonna promise me or what,” Yuri questioned.

 

He didn’t – doesn’t – want to make these promises. Because of the implications pregnant in the moment. Because he didn’t want to say goodbye to his sister. Because he wanted to make his own choices. He wanted to be free of the dream, and yet not. His heart twisted as his face belied none of the internal turmoil he faced. “Promise,” he said. Like dry peanut butter, the words stick in his throat.

 

Then the dream changed and he was plunged into a seeping blackness, choking, drowning. He clawed to reach towards the light. But the light seemed to always be just beyond his reach, beyond the burn of his lungs crying for air. And, like always, a flash of green eyes, hungry and calculating, burned into Otabek’s mind right before he woke gasping. The dream chased into oblivion by consciousness. His pupils narrowed to pinpoints and Otabek felt like he had run a marathon.

 

Exhausted, he rolled out of his thin cot; the rusted metal frame screeched at the shift in weight. To Otabek it mocked him each night and each morning. Reminded him of his place in this world, like a rusty old hag cackling at the misfortunes of those strangled in the middle of the night during the wars while she rummaged through their belongings for anything of worth. He’d striven for someplace outside his reach, outside his station, and the metal hag was there to take him down a peg or two.

 

After calming his racing heart, Otabek strained to hear any sounds apart from the syncopated thumps that issued from the engines. After so long in confinement right next to the out-of-sync engines, he really, really, really wanted to tear that engine apart and reconstruct it from the ground up. If anything just to satisfy his need to fix the damn thing. But what upset the young Kazakh wasn’t the omnipresent off-beat engine noise, but rather the lack of noise coming from the cell to the right. Yuri’s cell.

 

He paced in his cell like a bear, listening for any slight noise that could indicate anything. Usually he could hear something from him, but if he concentrated enough he thought he could feel an invisible pull in his gut toward the younger Russian. He knew better than to try calling out to Yuri for all it got them was more torture, more freezing cells, more endless blackness, then endless light, more shock grips that activated upon the slightest movement, days with only lima beans as food – Otabek _HATED_ lima beans – and the worst was what Otabek deemed as JJ’s theme song, played on repeat for days on end. _I am the king JJ no one defeats me_ Otabek hummed mindlessly, then scowled at the slip of his mind.

 

The pilot jumpsuit was at one time white, but now it was worn and stained so badly that it blended into the dirty grey bare metal walls. Otabek couldn’t even mark the time to know how long they had been there. Just, long. That’s all his brain would allow him to consider their predicament. But for as long as they had been prisoners of “JJ the Kingly Pirate” they both knew that any weakness, any crack in their resolve, and JJ would be right there to ferret out Global Pharma ship locations, research secrets, drug formulations, company ghosts in the closet. They’d trained for these situations, a stipulation of their employment and one every employee had to endure before they could work for the mega-pharm company. And Otabek had passed each test with flying colors, showing the burning heart of the hero of Kazakhstan could not – would not – be broken.

 

His stomach growled and he clutched at the rebellious thing. Day 4 of food that tasted like burnt chemicals; drugged. So Otabek refused to eat whenever JJ slid the tray through the door slot, shoving the tray untouched back through to clatter messily on the floor as soon as JJ turned his back. But today JJ was late, and that made him restless. What was the damned pirate planning? With his stomach complaining again, he slumped against the right wall and let his head knock back against the wall. He smiled weakly and hoped Yuri heard the thump, just to let the Russian know he was still alive too.

 

* * *

 

He’d been drawn to Yuri from day one of the project, but if he was honest with himself, he’d first noticed him at the confinement and compulsion training. All it took was a scoff and sharp flash of viridian eyes as Yuri sat across the room from him and Otabek was gone. Over the next few months, Otabek made it his mission to find out more of the blonde nymph. If said nymph knew of the mental catalogue Otabek kept, he might not have even approached Otabek: anything from favorite food (grandfathers’ Piroshky), fashion preferences (big cat print on anything), hiding spots from Dr. Nikiforov (surprisingly, the microbiology back reference section), expressions (that shy almost-blush after being praised for an excellent hypothetical solution. The one that came after his cocksure posturing at beating others in the lab, but only when Yuri thought no one was looking. That expression was Otabek’s favorite if anything for its rarity).

 

Otabek never dared drift too close to Yuri’s sun for fear it may consume him. Content with watching from a distance with a strange, yet familiar affection seated deep in his being. Never approaching.

 

But then Yuri approached him. Him, the outcast loner of the astronavigation team. The one people referred to as a dark horse of the flight simulators for the number of close scrapes and nearly failed missions that somehow resulted in class-A piloting. Him, the guy who his team members never talked to after the two large ubermensch of their team – hell, practically the whole astronavigation pilot team was choc-a-bloc with chest-thumping guys – decided Otabek was trying to steal their glory. They often got bored when Otabek didn’t rise to their taunts about his height (he was still growing, dammit), his manhood (microscopic, if you believed them. If only they knew), his family (his mother was most certainly not a hamster, nor did his father smelt of elderberries).

 

That is until the day of the GPF project assignments were announced and Otabek was fingered for the Silver team. The brutish thick-skulled males, Hans and Pyotir (who weren’t even understudies in the heirarchy), loomed large over Otabek, trying to initiate a shoving match to prove who was more testosterone-filled. Otabek’s normal response was cool disinterest and non-engagement, but that day it just pissed them off more. They’d had Otabek up by his flight suit lapels ready to swing a punch when Yuri burst into his training center, all ballsy and projecting confidence like he was suckled on it from birth.

 

“OI,” he’d said – shouted really, “what the fuck are you doing with my pilot you pieces of shit?” Yuri stomped up to Otabek’s aggressors. “You know who I am, don’t you,” Yuri sneered, leaving the goons to nervously nod in the face of the company’s don’t-you-dare-fuck-with-me-and-mine rising star scientist. “Then step the fuck off. NOW,” his tone, imperious, brooked no argument. The larger men quailed and scurried away like mice running from a prowling tiger.

 

“Hey, Otabek, right?” he asked. “The one who’s flying my _AGAPE_.” Yuri stepped into Otabek’s personal space and shot a searching look up to his own dark brown eyes. When faced with staring directly into the sun, many people freeze, stunned by the brilliance of its light. Otabek’s brain stuttered, refusing to work. Otabek desperately _wanted_ it to work. To stop gaping like a fish in front of his crush as green eyes searched him, laid him bare.

 

“Well? C’mon, you’re my pilot. So let’s promise to have a great flight, do some great research, and kick Dr. Nikiforov’s “gold team” off their podium!” Yuri stuck his hand out and waited for a handshake.

 

Otabek wasn’t much for showing emotion on his face, such that his sister would often pull his face into wonky smiles just to see a different expression on his face. But in that moment, Otabek was certain his eyebrows rose fractionally higher and his eyes widened in shock. Shock that the sun had descended to walk next to him, knew who he was, _spoke to him_.

 

Otabek stared at his own hand for a moment and, with a hand that only trembled slightly, took the warm hand offered to him. “Yeah, promise.” And as they stood shaking hands, something slid into place for Otabek. Like a piece of him had clicked back into alignment and his core systems could finally warm up. Then Yuri’s golden smile lit up and all bets were off, for how could Otabek even stand a chance against his smile?

 

* * *

 

He wished he had said something to Yuri when they had the chance. Even now his feelings burned bright in his chest. When it got bad he would recall a particularly snotty quip or a bitten-off, half-swallowed compliment from the angelic face he held in his mind. He even started to imagine the sharp medicinal menthol-camphor smell of the Tiger Balm that Yuri used constantly. ” _Hey, if it’s good enough for tigers, it’s good enough for me!”_ Yuri declared in Otabek’s memory. He turned and curled against the wall, willing his stomach full on Yuri’s catty scathing remarks. Just as he was about to stroke the wall with a shaking hand, the door to his cell burst open and JJ strode in, his grey eyes glittered dangerously.

 

“Congratulations!” boomed the taller man as he swaggered into the small cell, his chest puffed up. “You get to witness my final triumph!” JJ yanked Otabek up by his lapels and wrinkled his nose at the smell emanating from the listless Kazakh. “I know you’ve been waiting all this time for something big to happen and TO-DAY is that day!” JJ’s smile is all teeth, like a shark homing in on a floundering bear in the middle of the ocean.

 

Otabek grunted as his innards complained as the sharp movements reminded them of their lack of sustenance. Now that JJ had opened his cell, he became even more concerned over the lack of any information about his cellmate, no sounds, no illusionary camphor scent, no pull in his center. This wasn’t good by any definition in any dictionary. The voice that emerged from him was dredged up from fathoms below his surface aches and petty concerns, from a place where he kept his last reserves, gravelly and croaking. “WHERE. IS. YURI.” he ground out his words, glaring up at the oddly cheery pirate. He would spit in the pirate’s face if he could generate enough spit to spare.

 

“Now, now, no need to be impatient,” tutted JJ. “All in good time or it’ll spoil the surprise.” And with that JJ spun Otabek into the hallway, Otabek’s vision swam at the unexpected movement. His starvation tactics were backfiring on him and his movements, gestures, coordination seemed to flow of their own accord rather than by any real will on his part. How he managed to stay standing was beyond him at this point.

 

JJ clapped a strong arm around Otabek’s shoulders and marched him away from the cells. Otabek tried to twist his head around for a glimpse of Yuri’s cell, but JJ wrenched the prisoner back into marching order. This kept on for a long walk across the ship, with Otabek making feeble attempts to squirm out of JJ’s arms, until they rounded a corner and Otabek felt like a bucket of ice water had been slowly poured down his spine.

 

Yuri. Alive. His heart constricted painfully.

 

Yuri. Not dead. Yet, something not right either. _Yuri, what has he done to you_.

 

It was then that Otabek noted their location. Standing outside an airlock, door closed, with Yuri on the other side. He saw Yuri’s unfocused eyes and a long rope of drool sliding out of Yuri’s slack mouth. A guttural cry tore from his mouth and even in his weakened state he threw off JJ’s arm to plaster himself against the airlock door, pounding the plexi. Yuri stirred slightly at the commotion.

 

“Yuri! Yuri. What has he done to you? Yuri, look at me, talk to me; please. Pleaseplease _please_ hear me, _look at me_ PLEASE” Otabek shouted at the impassive door. When Yuri failed to respond Otabek leaned against the door, his heart heavy in his chest and his weakened legs threatened to give out from under him. Otabek shuddered as he slammed his palms against the thick plexi, uncaring as his hands sang in pain.

 

 _Ah, of course, this is what comes from trying to get too close to the sun. Everything burns and crumbles to ash in my fingers._ The memories of his time with Yuri filtered and recrystallized to faceted fractals showing layered moment upon moment of each interaction, polished to a high gleam. Otabek crumbled against the plexi barrier, the scent of his sweat and fear sharp in his nose. _It was my job to keep us safe, to fly better than others, faster. Yuri, I’m-_

 

“Bek-a,” the word fell thickly from Yuri’s lips, tarnished pearls dragged from the sea. Otabek gasped. “Don’ worr- worree ‘bout me.” Yuri’s head swung crazily like a marionette, his mouth slurring his words. He tried to smile, but half of his mouth didn’t match the other half. Then, as if someone cut his strings, Yuri collapsed fully inside the airlock.

 

With a roar Otabek rounded with a fist raised to see JJ lounging casually next to the airlock controls; his finger poised above the decompression button. Otabek froze mid-lunge, his heart pounding painfully in his chest. JJ raised his face and captured Otabek with a predatory gaze.

 

“Now that I have your attention. Let’s talk,” said JJ.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -"Okaa-san" means mother in Japanese. I didn't use the kanji because this is Yuuri thinking the word in his head and he would pronounce it that way. And he uses it instead of "mother" because this is internal dialogue. He switches to the English mother when speaking with Viktor.  
> -Блядь google translate tells me means "Fuck." If I'm (Google....) wrong, please let me know! though I won't often use foreign language in this fic, in this instance Viktor was so shaken up forgot to use English.

**Author's Note:**

> I IS NOT SCIENCE-Y PERSON. I'm just a nerd who loves the sciences. I obviously do not know how to run DNA tests, but I bluster through anyways. If I make a mistake, please let me know and I'll fix it!


End file.
